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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26469238">With a Bit of Luck</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettingOverGreta/pseuds/GettingOverGreta'>GettingOverGreta</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blind Date, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romantic Comedy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:54:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,883</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26469238</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettingOverGreta/pseuds/GettingOverGreta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Unlucky in love, Daenerys Targaryen and Jorah Mormont are set up on a blind date where nothing seems to go right. Can this date be saved?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Doreah/Tyrion Lannister, Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Jorleesi Equinox Exchange -Fall 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>With a Bit of Luck</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymelodrama/gifts">ladymelodrama</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Not gonna lie, I fought myself on writing this one, but then I gave in to the part of my brain that has watched 2,739 Hallmark movies (ok probably not that many) and went for it. After getting so much enjoyment from ladymelodrama's fics, it was a pleasure to write one of these prompts! Also, a big shoutout to @daisherz365 for her beta, which calmed my nerves when I was sure that it just wasn't fluffy enough.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Daenerys thought she’d chosen the bar for this date wisely. Nice enough to have fancy drinks, public enough that she didn’t have to be trapped in a corner in case he was a douche, and not so pretentious that he’d decide she was a snob. Besides, it’s called the Dragon’s Scale, and that has to be a wonderful sign.</p><p>Had she checked the calendar of events for the neighborhood she might have realized that the Wise Masters Consultants annual meeting was likely to spill out of the convention hall right into the bar. She feels her skin crawl as she looks at the men spilled over the patio. She’d been to a meeting once where one of them talked about her in Valyrian, not realizing that she could understand every smarmy, rude thing he said. The only satisfying thing about the whole day was casually thanking him for his time in Valyrian, and the resulting increase in the company’s donation to her cause. She attempts to see through the crowd swarming the bar, but ends up pulling out her phone.</p><p>
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</p><p>Daenerys smiles, sets her shoulders back, and confidently strides towards the back of the room, a sea of young men parting around her. She wears a blue dress, as promised, though from the total sausage fest going on in here, she doesn’t need to worry about Jorah mistaking anyone else for her.</p><p>She spots the green tie and black suit and a sweep of golden blonde hair and attempts to gracefully slip onto the stool beside him.</p><p>“Jorah?” She asks, at exactly the moment the slippery fabric of her dress betrays her and causes her to slide right back to the floor. She nearly loses her balance before a large, warm hand catches her elbow, and she looks up into the face attached to the green tie.</p><p>“Daenerys?” She nods, smiling politely and hopefully not frantically, because he isn’t exactly what she was expecting. He is indeed blonde (though she spies some silver around his temples) and tall (she had nearly face planted into his chest). His eyes are a stunning shade of blue, even in the bar’s “atmospheric” lighting.</p><p>He’s also got to be at least twenty years older than she is, a detail that Doreah neglected to mention when she suggested the blind date. She knew she shouldn’t have agreed to this, there was a cocktail party she should have been attending with Viserys, the gods only knew what he’d say without her there…</p><p>“You look lovely,” Jorah says, his smile warm and inviting. Daenerys feels herself blush slightly despite herself, she’s never gotten accustomed to men’s compliments…and has never really learned to volley them back the way Doreah can. She also realizes that he’s still holding her elbow, which she reclaims and hops up on her stool.</p><p>“Thanks,” Daenerys says, looking for something to compliment in return. “Are those bears on your tie?”</p><p>Not exactly a compliment, but it certainly is curious.</p><p>“Aye,” he admits, “A gift from my little cousin.”</p><p>“Ah,” Daenerys says, nodding sagely. She stares blankly again. What were they supposed to talk about? Mercifully, Jorah flags down the bartender, because she is definitely going to require alcohol’s services in this situation.</p><p>Every date doesn’t have to go somewhere, she reminds herself. She is simply being social, like a perfectly normal woman her age. With a man who hasn’t been her age since scrunchies were in style, but why be picky? A drink is a drink.</p><p>She orders one of the bar’s famous jalapeno gin and tonics; Jorah is already sipping a dark Northern ale. His eyes dart around the room occasionally, like he’s observing the crowd as well as her. “Tyrion says you work in security?” she finally begins, tracing the tile pattern on the bar with her fingernail. “How did you get into that?”</p><p>“Oh. I started working for Golden Elephant around ten years ago. I was a soldier, so the shift wasn’t too difficult. They’re always recruiting anyone who’s still in one piece. It’s a living, though at this point I mainly supervise less experienced guards. The travel’s good, too.” Daenerys thinks he must have been doing something else for the years prior to that, but she isn’t exactly one to pry. “What about you? He was a little vague about what you do.”</p><p>Daenerys smiles, swirling the stirrer through her drink. “Probably because I’ve done a little bit of everything. I did some anthropological field work with the Dothraki, worked for a human rights organization, spent some time restoring my family’s historic house. But right now I’m managing my brother’s campaign for the Assembly. He’s running for the seat our father used to hold.”</p><p>Jorah looks surprised, which frankly doesn’t bode well for her marketing efforts. “That must keep you incredibly busy. The election’s only a couple of months away.”</p><p>“I am. But Doreah said I couldn’t work all the time. I guess she’s right.” She raises her glass to clink against Jorah’s. The drink is delicious, he’s not so difficult to talk to, and there’s nothing odd about this at all.</p><p>Naturally, he has to go and ruin that.</p><p>“This might sound a little strange, but I brought you something.”</p><p>Daenerys freezes, her drink halfway to her lips. “You did?” <em>Dammit, things were going so well.</em></p><p>“I got here early so I stopped at the little bookstore around the corner. I saw this, and Doreah mentioned that you liked dragons…“ He hands her a small volume, children’s stories from Westeros and Valyria about famous dragons. She imagines that the illustrations are what caught his eye, though – they’re exquisite, not to mention the cover, with a scaled dragon carved into the leather. Daenerys can’t help but smile looking at it, though her mind is veritably screaming about what kind of man brings a gift to a date with a woman he’s never met.</p><p>If he started talking about marriage and children, she was absolutely going out the bathroom window, and Doreah and Tyrion could stuff it.</p><p>She excuses herself to use the restroom and pulls out her phone.</p><p>
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</p><p>Doreah stops and starts typing multiple times, which doesn't exactly alleviate her uneasiness.</p><p>
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</p><p>Daenerys sighs. He’d think she pulled a runner if she didn’t get back out there, and really, he might be old but the situation isn’t that dire. The book is strange but she isn’t getting a creepy vibe; if anything he exudes trustworthiness like a golden retriever. She checks her hair and lipstick, then heads out to the packed bar.</p><p>***</p><p>Jorah was having a similar conversation, albeit less civil in tone.</p><p>
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</p><p>Jorah sighs and slides the phone back into his pocket. He rolls his eyes as a man jostles him trying to get to the bar, mumbling an apology. He shifts around to guard Daenerys’s seat – he doesn’t mind standing if needed but honestly, he’d prefer to sit after the walk-through for the Sept of Baelor today. After growing up with simpler – and outdoor – sacred spaces, he’s never ceased to be amazed by the sheer size of the place, with far too many obscure and difficult to protect corners.</p><p>Daenerys is indeed lovely, clearly bright if unfocused, and stunningly beautiful. Jorah knew better than to trust the latter as any indication of virtue, but honestly, she seems to glow with…something. And he’s only known her for what, ten minutes?</p><p>He sighs, trying to relax. <em>It’s just a drink</em>. He takes a sip of the ale in his glass and expects Daenerys to be attached to the blonde hair entering his peripheral vision. Instead he sees the very last person he was expecting.</p><p>“Drinking alone? I would think you’d know better than that.” A dawning sense of horror washes over him, the sort of thing he’d last encountered on a battlefield, as he finds that his ex-wife has stolen Daenerys’s seat.</p><p>“Lynesse!” Jorah says, a little too quickly. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>She flashes a toothy grin at him. “Tregar has business with Wise Masters, he’s meeting someone here and then we’re going to dinner. What are <em>you</em> doing here?”</p><p>His mouth is suddenly as dry as the Red Waste. Lynesse had left him for Tregar Ormollen but he’s never actually seen them together. She had the decency to attend their divorce proceedings on her own. Moreover Jorah was here with…</p><p>“Oh hello? Friend of yours, Jorah?” Daenerys appears at his elbow. She picks up her drink from the bar – which frankly, she shouldn’t have left there, he’d have to remind her of that – and takes a sip. Lynesse turns her gaze on Daenerys, the side of her mouth curling in a smirk, and he could almost hear the ridicule in her head, which he frankly sort of deserves. <em>Really Jorah, a mid-life crisis? Did you get a sports car, too?</em></p><p>“Aren’t you adorable? Won’t you introduce me?” Lynesse says, in a silky tone that Jorah knows brooks more venom than when she is actually angry about something. Daenerys bristles, but she takes a breath and smiles sweetly.</p><p>“I’m a client, actually. Daenerys Targaryen. I’m working on a political campaign and I wanted some advice on security for an event.” Daenerys curls her hand into the crook of his arm and downs the rest of her cocktail in a rather large gulp before sliding the glass back onto the bar. “But, we should really be going.”</p><p>“So soon?” Lynesse said, her eyes sliding back to Jorah. She knows, of course she knows. She’d know the only reason he’d bother wearing a tie, and that he doesn’t conduct business in bars. However, more importantly Daenerys has a shockingly strong grip, and if he doesn't move she might dislocate his elbow.</p><p>“Right,” Jorah said. He pulls out his wallet and leaves some bills on the bar. “Lovely to see you, Lynesse, enjoy your evening.” Daenerys nearly drags him through the bar, until he’s able to swing around to make a path for her through the crowd.</p><p>“Oh Gods,” she says as they reach the fresh air, “I forgot that drink was a little spicy.” She pulls the book he’d given her out of her purse and opens it up to fan her flushed face.</p><p>“You hid it rather well,” Jorah replies. He awkwardly looks down at her, trying to figure out what they were supposed to do now. “Sorry. Lynesse is my ex-wife – I haven’t seen her for over a year.”</p><p>“I could tell she was something…you looked like you saw a ghost. Are you alright?”</p><p>“Aye. Nice save, by the way.” She grins brightly at that, and Jorah tries to ignore how dazzling her smile is. There’s no way she’d want to see him again after that.</p><p>“I thought it might be weird, explaining it was a first date…” Daenerys shrugs. “Well, now I need something to eat, and you didn’t get to finish your beer. C’mon, I know someplace else.”</p><p>***</p><p>The second bar Daenerys has in mind isn’t nearly as elegant as the first, but she thinks they both might be a little more comfortable in a place like this. Illyrio’s has kitschy decor but delicious food. She observes that Jorah steers her a little with a gentle hand on her back so that he can sit where he can see the door, but he loosens his tie and orders a new ale, and she orders a Pentoshi cocktail with nectar and bitters, plus a platter of cheeses and dips from the area.</p><p>“So, um. You know Tyrion and Doreah through the stable?” Jorah says, eyeing suspiciously the bright red ale the bartender sets down in front of him.</p><p>"Uh-huh. Doreah and I went to school together. She always said she wanted to get out of horse country, went off to the big city…”</p><p>“And went right back to horse country?”</p><p>Daenerys smiles. “Of course, thanks to Tyrion it’s now horse and wine country, so I suppose that was an important adjustment. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to help take care of Silver though, and it’s such a lovely place to go riding.”</p><p>Jorah nods, smiling faintly in return. “I don’t want to be that bloke who talks about his divorce, but I don’t know how I would have made it through without Stormchaser.”</p><p>Daenerys sits up on her stool. “Stormchaser is your horse? That giant beast?”</p><p>He laughs, and Daenerys idly thinks he’s much handsomer when he does. “He is big – horses on Bear Island usually are, it would have been only way to get around on the hills – and rumor has it, to carry considerably larger Bear Islanders back in the day.” There were stories that the Bear Islanders married with bears themselves and that was why they were so big and tall. Though Jorah appears quite reasonably sized, tall but not too tall, broad enough that she felt safe as he guided her through the crowded bar but lean enough that she didn’t feel intimidated…she also barely stops herself from saying that he doesn’t look particularly hairy, and quickly starts spreading a chickpea mash onto the bread in front of them.</p><p>“Silver’s on the smaller side, but so am I,” Daenerys says, adding an olive to her little canape. “And such a sweetheart, too – Tyrion and Doreah sometimes use her for a program where children from King’s Landing come out to ride. They say she loves the attention.” She pops the food into her mouth and finds herself stuck chewing like a cow because the bread was too big. <em>Charming</em>, she thinks. Jorah spreads sheep’s milk cheese onto his own piece of flatbread and takes a cautious bite, his eyebrows raising in surprise.</p><p>“Best place in the city to get that.” Daenerys smiles and tops a cracker with the same cheese and a bit of hot pepper relish – she’s always loved hot peppers, even if they make her a little flushed. “We lived in Pentos for a little while when I was a child, I suppose I just got used to the food.”</p><p>“Northern food generally isn’t much to write home about. But my mother’s fish chowder with crusty bread on a cold day – nothing like it.”</p><p>“Sounds delicious, and warm – oh no, Jorah, wait – “ Daenerys realizes that she’d been so busy following the way his gaze softened when he mentioned home that she missed that he had also put some of the hot pepper relish on his food – and promptly put it right into his mouth. Briefly she thinks, <em>it will be fine, Jorah is well-traveled, maybe he likes spicy food.</em></p><p>Unfortunately, that lasts only a moment before his eyes widen and his fair skin turns the color of a boiled lobster.</p><p>“Nevio! Water!” Daenerys says sharply. Jorah miraculously manages to choke down the peppers, but his eyes are watering and he’s coughing. <em>Wonderful.</em> Her first date in months and he’s mainly going to remember that she took him to a place where he burned off the surface of his tongue. She reaches over the bar to grab a napkin for him, and he yanks the glass to his lips as soon as Nevio puts it down in front of him.</p><p>Daenerys bites her lip. “I’m so sorry, I forgot about how spicy that is, I would have warned you.” Jorah coughs and nods, waving his hand a little in acceptance. She picks up a knife and spreads some of the cheese on the blandest cracker on the tray, then holds it out to him. “Here, this should help with the burning, I promise.”</p><p>Jorah takes it from her hand with his mouth, his bottom lip just brushing her fingers, making her eyes widen. He’s halfway through chewing when he realizes that wasn’t her intention, and she suspects that if he wasn’t already rather flushed he’d be well on his way to bright red.</p><p>“Fuck, sorry,” he says, then thinks better of it. “And sorry for that, too.”</p><p>Daenerys laughs. “I lived with the Dothraki for a year, I think that’s pretty mild.” He rubs the back of his neck, still looking a little uncomfortable, and she gets an idea. “Well, turnabout is fair play. Make one for me.”</p><p>“Sorry?” Daenerys points at the tray and Jorah’s eyes light up in understanding, and he layers a chickpea spread on a piece of flatbread, with some marinated tomato. Knowing full well she’s going to look goofy, Daenerys folds her hands in her lap and opens her mouth. Jorah smiles at that and feeds the little bite of food to her. She hums, chewing thoughtfully.</p><p>“Perfect combination,” she tells him. “Have you been to Pentos?”</p><p>“A few times,” Jorah replies, and starts telling her about some of his travels in Essos. He’s actually spent some time around Dothraki, which is rare among people in Westeros. They compare notes on Volantis, Daenerys declares Qarth overrated, and both agree they’d love to see Yi Ti someday. Jorah has even sailed through Old Valyria, and she knows she can’t keep the fascination from her voice as she asks questions about it. She notices that he slips by the subject of Lys, but in light of the situation with his ex-wife, she can’t blame him.</p><p>“If your brother wins the election, will you work for him?” Daenerys doesn’t remember how they wandered back to the subject of the campaign.</p><p>“Probably. I have a lot of ideas. When I was restoring Dragonstone I realized how few tradesmen we have left, and we have so many old buildings that need restoring and the arts will be lost, so we need to get people trained to take care of them. I think the lands above the Wall need additional protections. Oh, and we need to develop new housing in Flea Bottom…and honestly we need to stop calling it Flea Bottom, that’s awful, but I guess that’s probably a losing battle.”</p><p>She checks her phone while Jorah’s in the restroom to find a text from Doreah.</p><p>
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</p><p>Truly though…it was a little more than fine. Since Missy and Grey left for their honeymoon in the Summer Islands, she’s barely had a conversation that wasn’t a quarrel with Viserys or gossip with Doreah. Once she gets him talking in full sentences, Jorah’s voice wraps around her like sanded silk, a rich warm sound she could listen to for hours. Gods, he’d be great for a campaign ad voiceover… Plus, rather than bragging about all the places he’s been, he treats her experiences as equally important, he’s even admiring of her fundraising work that so many people treated as a joke, a job she could do till she found a husband.</p><p>They’re comparing notes on “strange things Tyrion has talked his way out of” when Daenerys’s phone rings. “Oh, sorry – “ she reaches into her bag and rejects the call without looking. “Work never really stops – “</p><p>The phone rings again. Daenerys makes a frustrated noise and pulls the phone out of her bag, her bright expression dropping as she looks at the screen.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Jorah’s brow furrows as she answers the phone.</p><p>“Yes, this is Daenerys Targaryen. Yes, he’s my brother. Ugh, of course, I’ll be right there.” Daenerys shoves the phone into her purse and makes an aggravated noise. “I’m so sorry. My idiot brother –“</p><p>Jorah raises his eyebrows. “The one whose campaign you’re running?”</p><p>“Unfortunately, yes. He’s – gotten into a fight, or something? Ugh, I can’t believe him! It’s like he doesn’t even want to be elected.” She looks up at Jorah, her face crumbling. “I hate to say this but I need to go. Someone has to bail him out.”</p><p>“All right. Where do you need to go?”</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s just the City Watch station. I’ll be fine, I’ve done this before with him.” She sighs. “I’ll probably always be doing this with him.”</p><p>“I’ll join you,” Jorah says, and gestures the bartender over to pay. “I might be able to be helpful.”</p><p>“No, no, you got the last one, and it’s my fault we’re leaving.” Daenerys hands her card to Nevio, while with her other hand pushing Jorah’s hand on his wallet back into his jacket.</p><p>“You can’t argue with this one,” Nevio says. “She’ll just keep talking until you give up or agree.”</p><p>“I like to think it’s one of my better qualities,” Daenerys jokes. “My mother used to say stubbornness was our worst family trait.”  She signs the slip and smiles sheepishly before they walk outside. She's about to call for a car when Jorah hails a taxi and opens the door for her.</p><p>Watching the meter tick up and suspecting she can’t charge the campaign for it, Daenerys glances sideways at her date. The utter dread of wondering what her brother’s done has faded, and now she’s mostly embarrassed to let anyone see what a mess the supposed candidate for the assembly actually is. “You don’t actually have to stay with me,” she says quietly. “I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend your Friday night.”</p><p>Jorah tilts his head, looking thoughtful. “We've made it this far and it hasn't been a bad night. Might as well see where it goes.”</p><p>“Mild poisoning is your standard for a good night?” Daenerys asks, “I should have stabbed you with something, you’d be proposing right now.”  Her eyes widen as she realizes what she’s said. Maybe mixing gin and nectar was a bad idea, now she’s the weirdo who’s talking about marriage while they go bail out her brother in the middle of their first (and probably only) date.</p><p>Jorah laughs, his cheeks going ruddy again. “Is it bad if I admit that I’ve learned that I need to wait at least a month before I do that?”</p><p>“Oh that’s a story I’ll need to hear someday.” She looks down at her lap and pushes her hair behind her ears even though Viserys says it makes her look like a monkey. “Thanks. I really do hate going there alone.”</p><p>“Of course,” Jorah says, “Let’s hope this will be the last time.” Daenerys nods, and even though they’ve only known each other a few hours, she wants to reach across the seat and slip her hand into his.</p><p>***</p><p>The City Watch station is exactly as one might expect on a Friday night at 8:30 PM, Jorah supposes. Not late enough for the real weirdness to start, but early enough that most anyone who’s managed to end up there isn’t in great shape. Daenerys asks about her brother at the desk, sighs and writes a check when she’s told what the bail is, and they’re directed to wait. The place is air conditioned to a temperature best described as glacial and after they’ve been sitting in hard plastic chairs for around 10 minutes Jorah realizes Daenerys has actual goosebumps rising on her skin. He stands up and pulls off his jacket to drape around her shoulders. He’s from the North, and at least he has sleeves.</p><p>“Thanks,” she says quietly, pulling it tighter around her. “I’m not sure how long it’ll be. Sometimes it doesn’t take long, but sometimes…”</p><p>“Sometimes they seem to take their time.” Jorah flicks his eyes over the officers working this evening. No one he knows so far, but he hasn’t seen the superintendent yet. The man who owes him a favor probably isn’t working at this hour, but Jorah supposes they could get lucky – the superintendent prefers to stay in the shadows, and this shift would suit him very well.</p><p>On the other hand, they’ve managed to run into the ex-wife he hasn’t seen in years, he accidentally ate peppers so hot his digestive tract is going to have words with him later, and now his date is bailing out her brother after she left him alone for a few hours. It was a miracle the cab didn’t hit someone on the drive over here.</p><p>Perhaps they were owed a bit of luck, because around half an hour later, the man himself strolls through the door and heads into his office. Jorah pulls out his phone and sends a text, watching Varys frown and pick up the phone to glare at it. He looks up, raising his eyebrows when he spots Jorah, with a sleepy blonde girl listing towards him in her seat. Making an exasperated face, he gestures for Jorah to come into his office.</p><p>“I’ll be right back,” Jorah says quietly to Daenerys, who suddenly sits up straight as if she hadn’t noticed that she was dozing off.</p><p>“Where are you going?” She says worriedly.</p><p>“Just to talk to a friend,” he nods toward Varys’s office, and she sits back in her chair, giving him a tired smile. Jorah weaves his way through the desks to the glass-encased room, wondering what sort of irony there was in a man like Varys working in a space that resembled a fish bowl…though perhaps it was more like a spider at the center of his web, letting everyone walk into his domain, not noticing that they were getting sticky.</p><p>“Varys, Good evening. Didn’t expect that you’d be working at this hour. What’s Viserys Targaryen charged with?” He drops into the chair before the desk when Varys gestures at it, steepling his fingers under his chin as Varys looks at his computer for an answer.</p><p>He sighs. “Nothing too serious. Drunk and disorderly, property damage. He took a swing at someone but didn’t actually connect, fortunately for him.”</p><p>Well, that meant Jorah didn’t feel too guilty about his next move. “So it wouldn’t be too difficult to have the charges dropped.”</p><p>Varys looks through the window at Daenerys, boldly staring at them through the window, still wrapped in his jacket. “You really don’t learn, do you?”</p><p>Jorah rolls his eyes. “Not really the point.”</p><p>“Isn’t it? You want to look like a hero, keep this from getting out and then Viserys won’t have to drop out of the race.” Varys shakes his head. “This isn’t the first time he’s been here. He’s got no business in politics.”</p><p>“You said it yourself. It was a minor incident. Ms. Targaryen can hire Golden Elephant, and we can make sure he doesn’t get into any more minor incidents.”</p><p>“Do you really think that’s going to work?” Varys asks skeptically.</p><p>“Maybe. For a while. Hopefully then he’ll realize he’s got no taste for politics. And if it’s that bad…maybe he spends a month drying out with the Sparrows.”</p><p>“Please. He hasn’t done anything to deserve that.”</p><p>“Hasn’t he?” Jorah frowns. “Ms. Targaryen says that this isn’t the first time she’s been here to retrieve him.”</p><p>“I’m just saying that they’re every bit as annoying as he is. And yes, she’s usually the one begging and pleading for charges to be dropped,” Varys says. “Usually they are – that set tends to stick together, half of them are probably cousins. Whatever he did this evening ticked someone off. But if the Targaryens compensate their hosts…”</p><p>“They might be willing to let it go.” Jorah nods. “I’ll let Daenerys know.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>Daenerys</em> is it?” Varys narrows his eyes. “You said she <em>could</em> hire Golden Elephant. Which means she isn’t your client yet.” He smirks, putting the pieces together. “You’ve really made a habit of punching above your weight.”</p><p>“Wasn’t my idea,” Jorah says. “Blame Tyrion Lannister.”</p><p>“I’d say she could do worse, but I might be lying,” Varys replies dryly. “I’ll call upstairs and get him sent down. Tell Daenerys to call the party’s host – I’m sure she can negotiate something appropriate. You’ll owe me a favor for this, don’t think I won’t collect.” Jorah opens his mouth to say that he thought Varys had owed him a favor – but decides it isn’t worth leaving Daenerys alone any longer. He nods and leaves the glass office, making his way back to his forlorn-looking date, still warily watching them.</p><p>“All right,” Jorah says. “Viserys will be down shortly. You need to call up whoever he pissed off tonight and pay for whatever he broke, and the charges should go away.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Daenerys says. Her mouth curls into a half-smile. “You couldn’t have done that before I turned into an ice sculpture out here?” Jorah smiles in reply - gods, he’s probably <em>twinkling</em> at this point - and sits beside her again to wait. He can’t help but notice that she shifts a little closer, her hand hidden in his jacket brushing against his.</p><p>***</p><p>When Viserys finally appears, Daenerys wants nothing more than to shake him. Viserys always seems to think their family name would carry him through the election, ignoring that no one will care about his name if he chronically acts like a spoiled brat.</p><p>She can’t shake him, of course, so her anger and frustration sits solidly behind her sternum like a rock.</p><p>“Gods, what took you so long?” He asks, shoving his wallet and keys back into his pockets. “I’ve been here for hours. That Rivers woman is a total bitch, by the way, threw a fit over some vase or something.”</p><p>“Viserys!” Daenerys hisses. Jorah is keeping some distance, she notices, letting them have privacy, though he can probably hear every word her brother is still spewing out. “The only reason you are getting out of here is that I agreed to pay for whatever you fucked up.” She’s angrier than she expects, and it’s not just the campaign, she realizes, it’s that she was actually enjoying herself, talking about things other than her brother and sharing delicious food with Jorah. And now she’s spent an hour sitting in the cold, her feet are starting to hurt, and she wishes she hadn’t given Jorah his jacket back.</p><p>“Of course you did, that’s your job,” her brother says, turning around and apparently just now noticing that she’s annoyed. He shrugs and walks past her, not even noticing Jorah, who comes up and gently lays a reassuring hand between her shoulders as they walk out. As the night air reaches her lungs, Daenerys decides that she’s had enough disruptions that evening.</p><p>“No,” she says, sharply enough to make Viserys spin around on the pavement. Jorah is just at her shoulder, and something about his quiet presence fuels her strength. “It really isn’t my job, and I’m tired of dealing with this. I’ll quit if it happens again, and you can just wait here forever, because I can promise you right now that none of your so-called friends will be by to help you.”</p><p>Viserys snorts. “Dany, you can’t be serious. We’re family.” Finally, he notices Jorah hovering behind her. “Who the hell are you?”</p><p>Before Jorah can answer, Daenerys reaches behind her, clasping his forearm briefly. “This is Jorah Mormont. He works for Golden Elephant and they’re going to make sure that you stay out of trouble.”</p><p>“That’s ridiculous.” Viserys sneers. “I don’t need a babysitter.”</p><p>“Oh? Because I left you on your own for one night and you ended up here.” She folded her arms, lifting her chin. “I’ll give them permission to remove you from situations where you might get in trouble. That won’t look very good for your <em>campaign</em>, so figure out what you need to do to keep yourself on good behavior because I am tired of trying to do that for you.”</p><p>“You can’t just – stop being family.” Viserys says, but Daenerys can see he looks nervous.</p><p>“You’re right,” she says firmly. “But neither can you, so start doing a better job of it.” With that, she turns on her heel and walks off in the opposite direction.</p><p>“Where are you going?” Viserys asks, sounding huffy again.</p><p>“I was out. I’m not done being out. Go home, Viserys, get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She keeps walking, Jorah following, until she can get around the corner. She stops abruptly, Jorah doing a quick little side step to avoid colliding with her.</p><p>“I don’t actually know where I’m going,” she admits. “Any ideas?”</p><p>“Probably,” Jorah says, looking somehow both amused and a little proud. “Come on.”</p><p>This bar is considerably less crowded and posh than the first, less homey than the second. More of a pub, really, with dark wood and brass fittings, and musicians tuning up in the corner. <em>Northern.</em> Instead of heading for the bar, Jorah shows her to a quiet corner, and she settles onto the bench while he orders drinks. He returns with a scotch on the rocks and a gin and tonic, free of any fancy touches.</p><p>“You switched to scotch?”</p><p>“Figured I might have a better chance of finishing this one,” Jorah says with a wry smile. He taps his glass to hers and takes a sip. “So why isn’t Daenerys Targaryen running for office? You seem to have the ideas, and the sound judgment. Not your brother.”</p><p>Daenerys shrugs, staring into her drink. “I don’t know. I’ve always just…been in the background. Our older brother was supposed to be the one who went into politics, and I was always just…someone who wanted to disappear into her books. I guess Viserys always just had some middle child syndrome going on, but then suddenly Rhaegar was gone and…”</p><p>“He wasn’t the middle child.” Daenerys nods.</p><p>“Well, you sounded like the one in control out there. Someone who can and should be in charge – that’s a rare thing indeed.” Jorah sounds sincere, even a little impressed with her. People have always suggested she should do this or that – support that project, join that board, date that nice young man. No one’s ever suggested that maybe, just maybe, she could be something more.</p><p>“I’m sorry it was such a crazy night. You’ve had a crash course in my ridiculous family and you barely know me.”</p><p>Jorah shrugs, and rolls the ice in his glass. “Best night I’ve had in a while, to be fair.”</p><p>“That’s awful,” Daenerys says. “We need to go out again, obviously, so we can move this one down in the ranks.” She gives him a cheeky grin, nudging him with her elbow.</p><p>“Now that is an excellent idea. We have nowhere to go but up.” Jorah gestures a server over, bearing a plate with chips and a bottle of vinegar.</p><p>“Oh, but that’s an even better one.” Daenerys pops one right in her mouth, sighing blissfully. “Oh they’re perfect.” Crisp and salty, made of real potatoes instead of those nasty battered things. Maybe they could regulate the chip market to make only these available for sale.</p><p>As the musicians start to play, Jorah pulls off his tie and shoves it into his pocket, and Daenerys thinks of something else she wants to ask him. “So…tell me about Bear Island? I’ve never been.”</p><p>“Most people haven’t. It’s not exactly a tourist destination, unless you like hunting or fishing. So I’d say it’s the best kept secret in the north.” Jorah tells her about a rough, hilly landscape streaked with waterfalls and full of towering pine trees, the salty air that filled his lungs on rocky beaches and the rough seas where he learned to sail and swim. As the basket of chips dwindles, she pictures his family home, with his parents, his aunt and his cousins and their children.</p><p>Daenerys also can’t help but notice an outright longing in his voice, that makes her wonder why he isn’t back there instead of here in the city. For now, she’s simply glad he isn’t, because she can’t imagine that she ever would have met him. Yet they ended up here, in the same city, with the same friends, boarding their horses in the same suburban stable.</p><p>The band plays a slower song that brings couples to the middle of the floor. Jorah holds out his hand and she nods, letting him lead her to the edge of the group. At first she feels like she’s back at one of the cotillions of her teenage years, her posture stiff and regal as she lays her hand on his shoulder, Jorah keeping a respectful distance with his hand in the middle of her back. She remembers the instructor telling her to keep her eyes on her partner’s face, but that’s not difficult with Jorah, because she wants to memorize every inch of it. When she’s convinced that she has, Daenerys steps in closer, turning to rest her cheek against his chest, and smiling softly to herself when his arm tightens around her. She feels like she’s melting, perfectly safe and comfortable in his warm embrace, and closes her eyes. When the song ends and they finally part, his eyes flicker over her face and she lifts her chin, expecting him to kiss her. But the music turns into a riotous reel (she might have been game, if she wasn’t in these shoes), and they have to hurry back to their corner before they’re swept up.</p><p>When Daenerys accidentally yawns, Jorah insists on accompanying her to her door, promising that he doesn’t live that far away. She hops up on her doorstep to be a little more level with his height, and looks up through her lashes as she fusses with the lapel of his jacket. He already knows she wants to see him again, so there won’t be any games of seeing who texts or calls first, and she doesn’t see the point of being anything but direct.</p><p>“So what shall we do next time? I was going to say that we should meet up and go riding, but we can’t possibly give Tyrion and Doreah that satisfaction so quickly, so we need to come up with something else.”</p><p>Jorah chuckles at that. “Oh, certainly not. How do you feel about boats?”</p><p>Daenerys raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Depends on the boat.”</p><p>“I can borrow one from a friend. We can take a picnic, there are some beautiful spots along the Blackwater.”</p><p>It’s an absurdly old fashioned sort of date, and Daenerys absolutely loves the idea. She nods eagerly. “Text me with the details,” she says warmly, and lays a hand against his jaw as she stretches up to press a kiss along the sharp angle of his cheek. As soon as she does, though, it doesn’t feel like enough, and almost without a thought, she brushes her nose against his, and brings her lips to meet his for a moment that feels all too brief. <em>One more</em>, she thinks, and catches his bottom lip between hers, her breath catching as he clasps her against him. His hand in her hair makes her hum with pleasure, as she drinks in the sweet taste of his mouth. Just as she’s about to ask – or frankly, <em>order</em> him to come inside, he pulls away to catch his breath, and takes a small step back.</p><p>“You should probably go,” Daenerys says, feeling a little breathless, her heart pounding in her chest. “Or I might not let you.”</p><p>“I should go,” Jorah replies, “Because I wouldn’t argue.” He takes another step back, and Daenerys reminds herself that it wouldn’t hurt to know him better, to understand more of who he is, because she’s already sure there’s more to him than just about anyone she’s ever met. “I’ll call you tomorrow, we’ll choose someone to monitor your brother.”</p><p>“You can’t do it?” She asks, suddenly liking the idea of seeing him every day.</p><p>“That seems like a conflict of interest. Mainly mine, I won’t be employed long if I punch my clients.”</p><p>Daenerys sighs dramatically. “Oh fine.” Then she lets herself smile at him one last time. “Good night, Jorah.”</p><p>“Good night, Daenerys.” She already knows he won’t leave until he’s sure she’s inside.</p><p>After she finally kicks off her shoes and unzips her dress while Drogon weaves around her legs, purring, she pulls out her phone.</p><p>
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</p><p>Daenerys watches her phone light up with more questions and emojis, but just tells Doreah that it’s late and they can talk in the morning. She scoops up Drogon and smiles at Rhaegal and Viserion (so-named solely to annoy her brother), curled up together in a heap on the couch.</p><p>“Completely forgot to ask if he likes cats,” She says, kissing the huge black cat on top of his head. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”</p><p>***</p><p>They do go boating on their second date, and she brings the book he gave her, has him read to her while she’s stretched out on her back, her head against his thigh.</p><p>After their third date, Daenerys is fairly certain her neighbors hate her. Not because she was <em>indiscreet</em>, mind you, but because she accidentally set off every smoke alarm in the corridor trying to make breakfast.</p><p>Three years later, she's sitting at her desk in the Assembly, her re-election considered certain, waiting for Jorah to meet her for lunch. A framed picture of the two of them sits on her desk, along with the little book Jorah gave her on their first date. She usually has it in her desk drawer, or even in her bag, the leather tooling on the cover worried in places by her nervous fingers, but today, she's going to tell Jorah that they will soon share the book with a <em>new</em> little dragon, and she can’t wait to see the look on his face.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you would like some musical accompaniment for that last bar scene, the song is Richard Thompson's "Waltzing's for Dreamers."</p></blockquote></div></div>
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